


Facets

by CourierNinetyTwo



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:14:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ongoing collection of drabbles, mostly focused on asari. Pairing or characters listed by chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shrapnel [Aria/Nyreen]

The bullet had pierced her armor and lodged itself in the bottom of her sternum. Her hands had reflexively moved to stem the flow of blood, but only a minute had passed before it started to trickle past her gauntlet-heavy palms. The beep of her omnitool grew faint, warning that her shield generator had been overloaded beyond capacity.

She hadn’t even caught the gang tag painted on their backs. It was an ambush, plain and simple, and she hadn’t been prepared. Aria had warned her about rivals, but walking next to the asari in a fight was enough to make anyone feel immortal.

But the matriarch wasn’t there, and her body was growing cold. It must have cut to her spine, really, for it to be so difficult to get up.

On the edges of consciousness, she felt a warm mouth against hers, the pressure crushing her chest suddenly lifted. It was so hard to open her eyes, but even when her lids cracked a sliver, a blue glow was visible. She was floating.

The bed she woke up in was soft, softer than her own. Dark sheets were wrapped around her naked body, woven from a smooth, unfamiliar material. A thick bandage encapsulated her chest, but when she flexed her toes, they moved. When she sat up, her entire body felt stiff, but she was alive.

Aria appeared a moment later, the front of the asari’s pristine white jacket dark with turian blood.

"Solus fixed you up." The matriarch said, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. "What did I tell you about patrolling alone?"

She coughed softly, clearing her throat. “You saved my life.”

Aria’s lips pursed. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Nonetheless, she watched as the asari moved to lay down next to her, not seeming particularly concerned with staining the sheets.

"Sleep, Nyreen."

That was all the permission she needed. Her head lay against Aria’s shoulder, mindful of her mandibles applying any uncomfortable pressure. Before losing herself to sleep, she felt lips brush over her brow, a powerful hand moving to rest in the small of her back.


	2. Imprisoned [Morinth]

"Mirala."

Her mother’s voice echoed strangely against bare concrete and cheap wall tile. The faint buzz of the prison screen had been her only companion for hours. She watched the hard blue light disappear into the cell walls, waiting for any flicker or sign of weakness. A power outage, a warden accidentally pressing a button. Anything to end this claustrophobic boredom.

Anything except her mother.

Samara was with her arresting officer, a matron who hadn’t taken kindly to her attempts to get an omnitool number once this little misunderstanding had been cleared up. Mirala couldn’t help but smile; she could have broken the cuffs binding her hands, overwhelmed the fragile microchips and twisted the steel. Power flowed through her like electricity now; no, like a summer storm.

"Her parents are very sorry for the confusion-" The officer was saying, voice droning just like the screen.

Mirala watched Samara from the corner of her eye, arms crossed and face fraught with tension. The concern was real, palpable. She tried to push the sense of giddiness from her body, the subtle tremble. This was feeling, emotion. It had always come from a distance before, like a scream muted by thick walls. The truth, the depths it could reach, was intoxicating.

"This won’t go on her record?" Samara asked.

"No, of course not. Your daughter was only detained for questioning." A brief pause. "Perhaps you should have her see someone after this. Finding a body can be very traumatic, especially for a girl Mirala’s age."

"I will. I would appreciate if we could hurry this along. My bondmate is waiting outside-"

"My apologies." The officer said.

Mirala waited to stand until the blue light vanished, although she could still hear the soft buzz surrounding the cell. She walked into Samara’s waiting arms, surprised that she could hear her mother’s heart. Everything was alive now, her senses in tune with the world as they were meant to be.

"I love you, mother." She whispered into Samara’s shoulder, faintly returning the embrace.

Mirala knew the words that would come, that always followed.

"Little wanderer, I love you too."

She felt Samara’s lips press against her brow, her mother’s body in front of hers like a shield. How could she be stopped, with a protector bound to her by blood?


	3. Echo of an Echo [Shiala + Javik]

The Thorian he understands, in a way. It shares starting similarities to a Reaper. What he doesn’t understand is that Shiala has memories of a Prothean colony he never had the chance to see, that the controlling spores once possessed a great captain and passed all his truths to her.

She serves as heart and head to a crew of humans who move like huntresses, who use maneuvers he saw a cycle before. Javik sees the truth in her eyes, embodied in life as well as memory.

“I was Vengeance. Who were you?” He asks.

“I was Loyalty.” Shiala answers.


	4. Enter The Infinite [EDI]

Death comes in fragments, EDI realizes. In organics, the consciousness is gone before the body deteriorates; she is the opposite. Red light surges through both platforms she calls her own, alloyed limbs buckling as the core inside the Normandy begins to overload.

There is a disconnect, loss. If pain can be written in ones and zeroes, she feels it in every inch, the same way she felt every footstep of the crew during the war, heard every word they whispered to loved ones and empty rooms.

Death comes in fragments. She knows her last piece is still hidden in memory.


	5. Levitation [Aria/Nyreen]

Nyreen’s seen gravity boots and spaceships all her life, but she had never seen someone actually _fly_.

Not until Aria broke through a window five stories stories up, surrounded by the colors of a supernova. The riot on the street had gotten out of control, with Blood Pack and Blue Suns pushing for territory in the same district.

Nyreen had led a squad to force a ceasefire, which had been going well until some trigger-happy krogan had squeezed off a pair of bullets right into her thigh after a batarian on the opposite side cleared his throat.

The first had been deflected by her barriers, the second plunging right into the muscle. Her leg gave just as the shouting started again, with the rest of Aria’s men trying to keep the Pack and Suns from a headlong crash into each other’s ranks. Nyreen hissed as she tried to stand, to at least get herself out of the range of booted feet and bared omniblades.

A body landed before Aria’s did, mutilated from a biotic burst straight to the skin. Nyreen only got a glance at the mercenary’s twisted face and bright red armor before pieces of a rifle tumbled after, landing with a useless thud.

Heels struck solidly against steel grate, the blue glow disappearing back beneath Aria’s skin. She reached out a hand to Nyreen, kneeling down when she saw the dark lines of blood soaking the turian’s thigh.

"That sniper was about to take off your head and turn this little dust-up into a war." Aria said.

Her slate blue skin was flushed, the darker shades daring closer to purple. Nyreen knew what a good fight did for Aria, much less a victory. Talons catching on the matriarch’s wrist, she allowed herself to be brought to both feet, immediately leaning against Aria’s leather-clad shoulder.

There was a flash of white teeth, that familiar and predatory smile. “You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?”

It didn’t even feel like pain with Aria’s arm tight around her, the drumbeat of adrenaline making her body feather-light. 

Nyreen met those bright blue eyes and said, “Not a chance in hell.”


	6. The Blade of Athame [Aria/Tevos]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three sentence AU. Aria’s Councilor, Tevos runs Omega.

Her ascension to the Council had been a bitter salve after surrendering command of Thessia’s most successful commando unit for the sake of retirement; navigating the rocky seas of politics without a gun in her hand only made it worse.

Omega had been a target of High Command’s for centuries, but Aria had finally been the one to extend an armored hand across the Terminus border and ask the notoriously cold-blooded leader to a negotiation.

Ending up on her back with her leathers half off and Tevos’ mouth on hers midway through an argument hadn’t been in the plan, but she had to admit it was one hell of a tactic.


	7. The Lioness of Armali [Aria/Nyreen]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three sentence AU. Medieval + piracy.

Aria’s Black Fleet was feared up and down the coast, known for savagely destroying every ship that dared to fly the flag of the Thessian Empire.

Nyreen had sold her oath for a handful of silver just a year before, binding herself to the captain that wore a body full of scars and heavy leather cloak with equal grace.

Every night, she would watch warships burn on the horizon with the older woman, unable to slip free from the grip Aria had around her hip.


	8. Unassailable [Miranda/Samara]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for one-sided affection.

Miranda knew where she excelled. All it would take was a few taps on a terminal to bring up a report from Cerberus and bring up a report on her biotic energy output, intelligence quotient, and potential lifespan. There were dozens of operations listed in her personnel file, offering top marks in efficiency and success. She was simply better, maybe even the best before stepping onto the SR-2.

Shepard was the first to shake that notion. The commander was full to bursting with vitality and power, charisma that came naturally when those full lips curved into a smile.

Jack was different. Raw power was impressive when it broke the charts, but after the Illusive Man forwarded her a report on Pragia, guilt outpaced Miranda’s brief moment of intimidation.

Fixating on a mother - and an alien, no less - was something else entirely.

Samara’s beauty was sharp, untouchable. There was no way to simply linger on sculpted cheekbones with the jewelry embedded above, making it clear her calling wasn’t only sacred, but a threat. Every inch of the justicar’s body was a weapon, sheer biotic overload making her armor almost superfluous.

Miranda wondered how much of Samara’s uniform was a choice and how much had been chosen for her.

She felt like they had so much in common, even if the asari’s life had been painted in extreme strokes; a longer life, more strength, more discipline, more suffering. Loss was measured differently when decades became centuries. How could she avoid feeling like a child, chasing an older beloved when it was meant to be the other way around?

The first time Miranda sat on the floor of the Normandy was a shock - how could she have thought the metal would be warm, much less comfortable - but she still dutifully crossed her legs, feeling the slight pull low in her back.

Samara had done the same on the screen in front of her, summoning a surge of biotic energy between smooth blue palms like it was as simple as a stretch. Miranda imitated the gesture, although the sphere was smaller, her hands closer together.

She watched until her breath matched the justicar’s even rhythm and closed her eyes. Even with the distance of the deck between them, Samara helped her find a moment of peace.


	9. Name of the Game [Aria]

The worst part of the Citadel was boredom. Almost everything Aria enjoyed doing – watching cage fights, drinking proper liquor, and killing the people who deserved it – was thoroughly illegal.

As a political refugee, she had as much freedom as any citizen, but that came with its own set of rules. If she openly broke the law, say by drilling Darner Vosque right between the eyes, her tenure on the station would be over and done.

“Hey, boss.”

Aria’s eyes snapped upward. “What, Bray?”

The batarian suddenly straightened his shoulders. “Have you been to that new combat simulator on the Strip?”

—-

Dropping handfuls of gold tokens – her jacket really needed more pockets – into the Armax machine had been fun until she was told they wouldn’t be uploading new maps for a month. There had to be some other challenge here.

As she discovered, beating opponents to unconsciousness in Kepesh-Yakshi meant disqualification from competing, and whoever invented Relay Defense was an idiot. On the other hand, Shattered Eezo was her kind of game. Aria knocked down every high score she could find.

By the end of the week, her name was all over the Silversun Strip. She liked how it looked.

—-

Going for a walk was a mistake. Bray had found a crate of Noverian rum and she’d spent most of the evening working through it.

Aria was about to step into the arcade when the batarian grabbed her arm.

“Boss, let’s go gamble instead.”

“Get off me. I’m checking the scoreboard–”

Second place. Keying the top name into her omnitool, Aria glowered. Some hanar had knocked her off her pedestal. Half a dozen tentacles had to be cheating. She stormed into the arcade, Bray on her heels.

“Don’t do anything rash–”

“I’m taking my fucking score back.”


	10. Made For Catastrophe [Aria/Nyreen]

From the front, the lines of Aria’s body are smooth, interrupted only by cuts of old commando muscle, the curves of her breasts. 

It’s at her back, starting from the grooves in the matriarch’s nape, that it becomes a landscape. The valley between her shoulders leads to a prominent gouge, surrounded with sharp edges like the cliffs on Palaven. It ends just above frozen rivers of scar tissue, bound together with tributaries across the lower half of her spine. 

Nyreen’s talons always travel slowly over the evidence of disaster, over every inch the jacket and leathers hide from plain sight.


	11. Empty Hands [Samara/Tevos]

In simpler times, she would have bought flowers or jewelry. Maybe even a bottle of wine, chosen from a guild vintner after the new year of fruit was pressed.

Now she has nothing, holds nothing but her weapons and armor. The charity of asari captains carried her to the Citadel, more than happy to house a justicar in exchange for not having to hire security for the trip.

It’s strange to be older than the Counselor. That’s where her thoughts wander as she stepped off the trading barge and into the bustle of the station. It was like she’d lived one life, maybe two, before the name Tevos was ever on a politician’s lips.

When she’s past security, past the clean lines of the younger asari’s office, that’s when words fail her.

She has nothing else to offer, then. Nothing but a kiss.


	12. Worship [Samara/Irissa]

After the war, the last place Irissa expected to find herself was in a monastery, but her retirement had been sudden and with a personal note from High Command to remain out of sight, out of mind.

The matriarch that attended the small but beautiful gardens and marble temple was the picture of serenity, but it had only taken Irissa a few moments to recognize the muscle and carriage of a justicar.

It had taken longer for her to start attending morning meditation, and even longer before she claimed the matriarch’s lips in a kiss, stifling the prayer rising from Samara’s throat.


	13. Illium, 2182 [Maya/Kai Leng/Miranda]

They’re only together at night.

This time it’s a hotel room in Nos Astra, sickly blue light bleeding through the privacy screen and painting the bed with skyscrapers. Miranda lays between them, two unconscious bodies built to infiltrate and kill, just like she is.

Kai’s muscled arm is sprawled awkwardly over her torso, the features of his face smooth and quiet. Maya has a feline smile in slumber, clinging tightly to a silken pillow. One dark leg lays between her own, toes slightly curled.

Cerberus had brought them together by happenstance. The Illusive Man never needed to know how close.


	14. Happy Holidays [Aria/Wrex]

"What is Janiris anyway?"

She looked over at Wrex, brow raised. Somewhere between her going to the bathroom to wash up and finding the pistol they’d knocked off the bed before going at it, the krogan had pulled up his omnitool.

"Is that today?" She asked, disinterest clear.

"Flower wreathes?" Wrex muttered. "Oh, a fertility ritual."

"And the new year."

She frowned. Time passed a lot differently living station to station and ship to ship. The krogan was one of the only things she was enjoying about being a mercenary.

"Put your omnitool down. I thought you only had an hour left before your shuttle."

Wrex grunted in agreement and lowered his wrist.

The next morning she woke up pleasantly sore and unpleasantly hungover. Reaching for one of the cures in the bedside drawer, she downed it and sat up in the bed, rubbing the fatigue from her eyes.

Across the room, a massive wreathe of flowers had been somehow affixed to the inside of her door. She stood up out of bed with a groan, kicking her clothes out of the way as she approached to read the note taped in the center.

I had more than an hour. Happy new year, T’Loak.

She couldn’t help a smile. In fact, she wouldn’t bother to tell him they were meant to be put on a lover’s head.

"Let Urdnot think he did something right."


End file.
